


Knuckle Dusters

by LaughableLament



Series: Tumblr Tidbits [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 05, Alternate Universe - Supernatural on HBO, Barebacking, Bottom Dean Winchester, Don't copy to another site, HBO SPN, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smoking, Tattoos, Witch Sam Winchester, established wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: Scabby, shiny with the ointment Sammy had rubbed on to keep them from blowing out, eight sigils. Enochian. Symbols for blood and brotherhood and… Dean didn’t know. One on each finger, between his second and third knuckles.“You’re not gonna be defenseless the next time Cas tries a beatdown,” Sam had said, mixing ash and blood and something Dean didn’t dare ask about into the ink. “They’ll be like knuckle dusters, and they’ll work on demons too.”(inspired by a bunch of #hbo spn posts going around tumblr)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Tumblr Tidbits [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079091
Comments: 12
Kudos: 160





	Knuckle Dusters

Dean strolled out to the porch of the old cabin. Shook a Morley from the pack on the windowsill. He scanned the woods, digging in his pocket for his Zippo, wincing at the sting. He flick-clicked, lit up his smoke and leaned both forearms on the railing, studied the mojo Sam had just tattooed on his hands.

Scabby, shiny with the ointment Sammy had rubbed on to keep them from blowing out, eight sigils. Enochian. Symbols for blood and brotherhood and… Dean didn’t know. One on each finger, between his second and third knuckles.

“You’re not gonna be defenseless the next time Cas tries a beatdown,” Sam had said, mixing ash and blood and something Dean didn’t dare ask about into the ink. “They’ll be like knuckle dusters, and they’ll work on demons too.”

He took a deep drag. Puffed his cheeks on the exhale, too breezy for smoke rings. Trees rustled, frogs croaked, and katy-dids raised all kinds of racket. Dean turned his arms, looked over his growing gallery. He’d racked up a few witchy tatts since Sam took up with that demon whore. She was a lying come-rag bitch but she knew useful shit. Kind of a shame he’d killed her so quick. Real shame he’d only got to kill her once.

He ran his finger over faded Roman numerals: _May 2, 1983; July 19, 2006_.

Lines from the _Rituale_ wound in a ribbon toward his left wrist.

_te rogamus, audi nos_

Nice thought, if he could trust whoever was listening.

_contremisce et effuge_

That he could stand behind.

Creaking floor boards, slamming screen door, Dean nodded back over his shoulder and puffed his smoke. Offered Sam a drag but Sam passed.

“How’s it feel?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been to Hell, man, it’s fine.”

Sam moved up behind him, slid forward and wrapped Dean in his arms. “No, I meant… do you _feel_ it?”

“I can feel that boner back there.” Dean himself had been half-mast ever since Sam got the needle in him. He squirmed his ass back and Sam chuckled. Started on Dean’s belt and tugged him backwards. Dean went along, shuffled his feet. Held onto the porch rail and his cigarette. Sam pulled his pants down; Dean arched. Sam’s knees thumped the floorboards behind him.

“Fuck yeah.” Dean sighed a cone of smoke towards the sky as Sam dove in. Wagged his tongue and licked in circles, put his back into it. Dean swayed, laid his forehead on his arms and shut his eyes. Shut it all out besides Sam’s marks aching on his fingers and Sam’s tongue digging in his ass. Spit-fucking, two days’ stubble scouring between his cheeks. Sam ate him wet and loose enough to get a finger in. Stretching, hooking, and screwing in him. Set him on fire.

Sam slapped his ass and pulled out rough. Dean jumped. Ash column fell off his burned-down smoke, singed the back of his hand. He flicked the filter to the driveway where it rolled and smoldered. Sam stood up. Came back slicker. Slid two fingers in Dean’s ass and felt around until his thighs shook and his dick leaked. He banged his fist on the rail. Wave after wave threatened to take his knees. Sam lit him up, wiggled in him, dragged thick fingers in and out.

Then Sam was pressing on the small of his back, and Dean breathed, and Sam’s cock blistered in him, not stretched enough, not wet enough. Dean squirmed against the sting and sucked Sam deeper. He groaned through his teeth when Sam pulled out, just the head inside, trickled cool lube on Dean’s split hole. 

Hissing. “Shit, Sammy—”

Shoved in. Seized Dean’s hips and seesawed, knocked his teeth together. He gripped the porch rail and fucked back. Sam blanketed him. Covered Dean’s hands with his and Dean couldn’t help looking down at Sam’s companion ink, from the _Rituale:_

_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._

Lord, free us from the devil’s snares.

Wasn’t that a fuckin’ joke?

Dean moved with Sam, moved against him until their rhythm started breaking down. Sam gave him a hand, heat and pleasure built. Obliterated him. Friction, sweat, and cuss words. Slapping skin. Sam yelled, Dean yelled. Knees went out, and Sam was all that stopped Dean from dropping cold. He shot all over his shirt, Sam’s hand, the chipped-painted floor. Got ahold of himself enough to milk Sam’s dick once before it slid out. Sam’s head laid heavy between Dean’s shoulder blades. Breath came fast and shallow. Come dribbled down Dean’s thighs. He eased them to their knees. Let Sam hang on him, arms hooked tight around him and spent cock rubbing up his back. He shivered as he petted Sam’s hand.

“Christ, man, whatever’s got into you today, we oughta get more of it.” He turned his head and nipped his brother’s jaw.

Sam dragged them down to a seated position, Dean between his legs. Damn floor was cold on Dean’s bare, wet butt. Sam lifted Dean’s hands and inspected his work.

“We should look for demon omens, huh?” Dean suggested. “Take these babies for a test drive.”

Sam thumbed Dean’s knuckles, kept clear of the fresh ink. “Let’s let them heal for a couple of weeks.”

“Couple of weeks?” Dean protested.

Sam squeezed Dean between his thighs. Belt and zipper jabbed Dean’s lower back. “Don’t worry.” Sam nipped his ear. Mumbled, “I can keep you plenty occupied.”

**Author's Note:**

> [crossposted to tumblr](https://laughablelament.tumblr.com/post/636400839386415104/knuckle-dusters-hbo-spn)


End file.
